


Love Forever True

by notalone91



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Matchmakers, Modern Royalty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-20
Updated: 2016-12-20
Packaged: 2018-09-10 16:58:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8924911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notalone91/pseuds/notalone91
Summary: As Prince Neal’s 30th birthday nears, King Adam Gold sets about finding a bride for his son and only heir so that he may step down.  Enter the charming, beautiful Belle French.  Through a series of unexpected events, the monarch may not get exactly what he wanted, but what he needed instead.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TheStraggletag](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheStraggletag/gifts).



> Rumbelle Secret Santa gift for TheStraggleTag who prompted Modern Royal Rumbelle Courtship.

The world works in mysterious ways, or so the saying goes. The years since his wife's disappearance had weighed heavy on the mind of the king. As his son and only heir grew to become a fine young man loved by the public with a strong moral compass, keen hand at political dealings, and an adept naval officer, King Adam Gold began to seriously consider abdication. In contrast to his son's fair mindedness, somewhere along the line, because of one bad decision during the Americans so-called "War On Terror", the country had decided that he was to come to be known as The Dark One. Ever since, every decision he'd made, good or bad, had been marred by intense critical scorn. In reality, his stepping down was long overdue. There was but one problem. His son, Prince Neal, was a celebrated bachelor. The local paparazzi found great pleasure in his escapades- often lavish affairs that lasted for days from which he'd mysteriously disappear for hours on end. Women wanted him. Men wanted to be him. In order for Adam to step down, it was high time for Neal to step up in that final regard.  
As king, Adam had many connections; there were plenty of strings to be pulled if he needed something done. and he needed to find a wife for his son. With a quick phone call to the trusted matchmaking service, Mary Margaret and David Nolan were at the royal residence with portfolios stuffed to the brim of eligible women. Most were nobility, some just plain notable, many from neighboring countries, but they all had one thing in common. They were stunning. Each file folder held portraits and candid snapshots of, arguably, the most beautiful women in the world.  
"Tell me about her," Adam said, gesturing at the file marked Ruby.  
Mary Margaret smiled. "Well, she's the youngest daughter of the Lucases of Lyconne. They're a darling family. Not royal, but the family has made its fortune in gourmet dog treats and toys." Adam gestured her on, sliding her pictures closer to himself. "Truthfully, I believe she is not interested in marriage, much, but wants to please her grandmother. In our initial interview, she seemed more interested in the pack of domesticated wolves she raised than much else."  
"Wolves?"  
"Wolves," David answered. "She's a bit of a badass, which might be just what Neal needs."  
The monarch nodded. "But perhaps not what the crown needs. Who else?"  
David shuffled around some folders, seeming to know just who he was looking for. "Tamara Wilkins. She's the third of eight in line for the throne to Coeurenoire. She studied science at..."  
"No. Black heart? Worse for appearances, thanks. Plus, I'd prefer the girl not be in line for a crown. She can have a title, but in preparation for the worst, I'd like if she didn't have to choose between her home or here," he said. Busying themselves on reordering the piles, Mary Margaret and David began collecting certain folders and returning them to the portfolios. As they did, a picture slid out onto the table. "Her. Who is she?" A particularly beautiful woman, small of stature with chestnut hair and a particular spark of adventure in her crystal blue eyes, stared up at him from the page.  
"No one. I'm not even sure how she got in this group," Mary Margaret answered, picking up the photo and sliding it back into the appropriate file. "She's a daughter of a duke to somewhere, I think, but she was very adamant about both true love and making her own way. She's definitely not appropriate, I'm sorry."  
Adam reached his hand out. "Let me be the judge of that." He perused the application form. "Belle French. Avid reader. Homebody. Graduate of Cheltenham Ladies'. Bachelors in English from Yale. Masters in World Literatures In English from Oxford. Museum Curator for the Pergamon in Berlin." He continued reading silently for a moment. Loves horses. Volunteers with children. Speaks six languages. "She's perfect."  
"Your majesty, I-"  
"Enough. Her. Thank you," he said, dismissing the pair with a simple gesture. 

@}}>\-----

Slam. Stomp, stomp, stomp. Slam. Crash. Adam stopped at the doorway to his son's room. Apparently, Neal was home from his "summer baby-kissing" tour, as he called it. Steeling himself, he reached for the knob, turned it, reevaluated his decision, then knocked. When the banging stopped, he presumed it was safe to enter. The prince stood at his window, one leg perched on the sill, his back to his father. "I didn't know you were home." No answer. He stepped in and rested himself against the door. "Go ahead."  
Neal turned to the King, picking a spot on the wall above his head to focus on. He opened his mouth to speak, decided against it and crossed to his bed and sat on the edge, carefully studying his father. He should have known, really. He was turning 30, after all, but this was low. "A Marriage Broker?"  
Adam blanched. He hadn't even thought to ask if there would be an issue. Sure, the practice was a bit archaic, but it had been how he'd met his wife, Neal's mother. Neal knew that, didn't he? "It's not unheard of. It is, after all..."  
"How you met Mama, I know," he interrupted. "But, papa, you can't just think that I'm going to fall in love with a total stranger, right? It's so Fiddler On The Roof."  
"I guess it is Tradition," he offered, putting his arms at 90 degree angles and snapping. Neal rolled his eyes and flopped on his back. The king stood by his bed. "Listen, son, I know this isn't what you wanted, but this girl is coming here for dinner tonight," he held up a hand to silence his protests. "I'm sympathetic to your position here, I am, but it has to be done. I'm not going to be around forever, you know, and I have to be sure that the throne's requirements will be met."   
Neal looked at his father for the first time since he'd entered the room. His demeanor softened. "Fine."  
Just like that, the topic was dropped. The king turned to leave. As he did, he placed a hand on the doorway, not looking back at his son. "You'll make a fine king, Neal. Better than I ever was."  
Baffled, Neal stared after his father.  
In a few hours time, as the girl was being ushered around the palace by the Head of Household, a portly man with a thin, twitchy mustache who seemed to never look away from his pocket watch, and the Butler, a tall, thin man with a thick french accent who sped ahead of them flicking on the lights and lighting candles ahead of them. Each spouted off different points of interest to her. As they passed the formal dining hall, "where many an important dignitary has been seated, including just last week, Angela Merkel," Belle gawked a bit. She should have been better prepared for this, she thought. But how do you prepare in two days time for the form your father filled out and submitted, expecting to get you married off to anyone at all, and the interview you'd nearly forgotten you'd done to have you hand delivered to the doorstep of the royal residence. You don't, she thought to herself. Angela Merkel might, but you don't.   
They climbed a beautiful white marble staircase to the second story. Her guides tidbits became fewer and farther between, most of the second floor being bedroom suites. A lump formed in her throat at the thought of bedrooms in her current situation, but she carried on.  
"Finally, the last two doors in this hallway are the King's office, where you'll be meeting both the King himself and the Crowned Prince in just a moment," Belle turned to face the door and brushed herself down a little, knowing well that she looked her absolute best in her favorite sky blue dress but still worried that it wouldn't be enough, "and the library."  
Belle turned on her heel and stared at the other door. "Library? In the residence?"  
"Oui, mademoiselle," the butler answered, gently guiding her away from the first thing that had truly piqued her interest in the whole tour. "Scads of books, volumes on art and history, fiction, biography. And if there's something not in there, simply ask and it shall appear as soon as humanly possible. But for now, the office." He nodded to his counterpart who knocked at the door.   
"Come in," came a voice from inside.   
The shorter man swung the door open, wished her luck, and scurried off down the hall and into darkness. As the other left, he gave her a big smile and accompanying thumbs up before he too retreated from sight. Belle took a deep breath and stepped inside, her high heels clacking against the hardwood.   
The prince was lounging idly on a small settee by the window, tossing a tennis ball high into the air above him. The light reflected off of the pale green silk dress shirt he wore, giving him an even more queasy look than Belle could have imagined he'd have. Knowing what little she did of the royal family, she was certain that he couldn't have wanted this for himself any more than she did. When she reached a spot a comfortable distance into the room but not too close, she came to a halt with her ankles crossed. It was a terribly unladylike habit, she'd been told, but as she only did it when she was nervous, she deemed it a passable offense. "Your highness," she greeted, her voice barely above a whisper, and gave a small curtsy.  
"Neal's fine," he quipped, bringing himself up to look at her. "It's Belle, right? Would you care to sit?"  
She nodded, headed for the chair adjacent to him and sat, taking in the room around her- dark stained shelves, mahogany if she had to guess, matching floors, deep red throw rugs, forest green walls, matching green Rococo furniture that looked from where she sat to be legitimate, a huge partners desk with a dark green felt pad, could she be imagining it, a beautiful green dip pen next to a recessed ink well, and volumes upon volumes of books. If this was just the office, she thought, what could the library hold? If nothing else, access to that would be heavenly. "Do it for the books, Belle," she coached herself silently.  
Neal, on the other hand, couldn't have been paying less attention to the room. He'd been in it so often that, at this point, he couldn't even tell you the color of the walls without looking. Everything in what he considered his own personal gilded cage bled together. He knew that some day, the inevitable crowning and lifetime of public servitude would commence, but he intended to put it off as best he could. "You play much?"  
"Excuse me?"  
"Tennis. Do you play?" Neal clarified, waving the ball around.  
Belle shook her head. "A little in school, but not much since."   
"That'll change. Most days it's the only thing to do around here." A few minutes passed in silence before the prince spoke again. "I'm not sure what is supposed to happen here, but let's start with the basics. Have they told you why you're here, Belle?"  
"Yes, sir," she answered. "I was informed by the True Love Agency that my portfolio had been selected as a potential match."  
"'True Love.' Did my father really go through the Nolans?" he scoffed.  
Belle laughed. "Didn't you know?"  
"So King Adam style. Anything to do with 'True Love' and he's a sucker for it." Neal rolled his eyes and leaned back against the sill. "Speaking of which..."  
The door behind the desk opened and in walked King Adam. "You say my name, and I appear. It's a skill of mine, like Rumplestiltskin," he said, walking toward the lady and kissing her hand suavely.  
"Or Beetlejuice," Neal offered.  
Belle's heart sped at the subtlety of the King's gesture. Could he really be the Dark One of lore? He seemed so much warmer than his son. "Belle, your majesty," she said, bowing her head.  
"But, of course," he laughed. "We wouldn't have invited you here without at least your name, would we? So, how is my beloved Berlin? It's been ages, but once upon a time, I made myself quite at home there."  
The girl smiled. "Berlin is lovely. I've lived all over the globe, but there's no place quite like it."  
"Agreed." Sitting himself on the couch between the two, the monarch clapped his hands together and spoke, getting down to business. "So, Belle, I don't want this to sound too forward, but seeing as you are aware of the basic nature of this meeting, you should know that we're also on a bit of a time crunch. The state mandates that, for a royal to be eligible to ascend the throne, he must be married before his 30th Birthday. My son here turns 30 in January, so we were hoping for a Christmas wedding. And, I am aware that when I say 'we,' I do mean 'I'."  
Turning greener by the word, Neal asked, "Father, may I be excused?" Belle looked at the man she was suddenly inside of two months away from marrying and felt nothing. Was that the life she was to lead? She turned back to the king and listened anyway.  
"I do so hope that you'll accept. There's nothing in the world that would be out of reach for you, here, Belle." He paused, then added, "Except you'd have to leave our darling Berlin."  
Belle nodded solemnly. "I'd deduced as much. It's unlikely that a princess has an outside career, am I right?" she asked, calling the attention to herself and allowing Neal an escape, which he readily accepted.  
Adam settled back into the couch. "That would be correct. You'd be moving in here as soon as possible, and we'd have to get you in the public eye- optics and what have you. There would be no more privacy for you at all, dearie."  
"Okay," she said, running all the details over in her head. She supposed this is what every little girl dreamed about, was it not? So why should she turn it down?  
"Okay, you accept?"  
With a gulp and a smile, she piped out a small "Yes." She wasn't sure that the yes was particularly convincing, but it didn't much matter because within no time, she was whisked off to the desk, signing confidentiality agreements and pre-nups, all things she probably should have had a lawyer present for but, for some reason, she didn't think it was necessary. For whatever it was worth and however much her entire life's knowledge of his politics was screaming at her that she was wrong, she trusted the king implicitly.  
When all was signed and put in order, there was no reason to delay any more. "Now that this is all settled, Neal, why don't you show Belle to her room?" He looked up to where his son had previously been and found the seat still vacant. "Neal," he called out, a touch louder. "Well, I suppose I'll have to do it. He's always a touch flighty," Adam said, standing up and walking around the desk, offering his hand to Belle which she politely accepted. He linked his arm with hers and continued out of the room. "I'm sure you've had a bit of a whirlwind tour of the residence on your way up here, correct?"  
"Yes, sir," she affirmed.  
"You'll find, in time, that a lot of that information is sparse, but with your education, I'm sure that you'll fill in the blanks in no time." They continued back down the hall in which she came, the monarch giving a slightly more in depth analysis of the goings-on in these rooms and pointing out which members of the royal family sleep where. He gestured to the last door on the left, "That would be my room, though most nights, I do find myself asleep in my office or the library. "There," he said, then gesturing similarly to the last room on the right, "Is my wayward son's room. Again, he seems only to occupy this room on few occasions." He came to a stop at the second door on the right. "This, my dear, is where I leave you. Please know that anything you need, any time, don't hesitate to ask me directly." He turned away briefly, paused, then turned back. "Understand, Belle, that this room is very sparsely decorated because we weren't sure of just what your tastes would be, so there are catalogs on the window sill. Peruse them, circle what you like, and give it to Cogsworth at some point." He smiled warmly, kissing her hand again and headed downstairs. "Make yourself at home," he called off behind him, the last traces of his presence ringing long after he'd gone.  
Belle paused, staring at the door, secretly wishing that Adam had stayed with her just a few moments longer. She reached out for the door and pushed it open. The room was just the opposite of the other. What he had called sparse was downright stark. Bare white walls, a bed, a dresser, a huge, empty, walk in closet, and a vanity. She picked up the magazines and pen from the sill and crossed to the bed, flopping herself down upon it less than gracefully, settling in to make this as smooth as possible.

@}}>\-----

Weeks passed and the bright days of summer were traded for the muted vibrancy of fall. Neal had been missing in action since he disappeared from the office meeting. King Gold had devised a story which, of course, the media ate up about Neal's final tour of duty before marriage and focusing solely on that. Belle had made the transition to living full time ini the residence and had begun making appearances as the incipient princess, usually alongside the King until this point. The papers were calling her "The Princess of the Light," because of the contrast she brought to his "Dark One." She was, politically, everything Adam could have hoped. Even more so, she was, personally, perfect. He found himself growing more and more jealous of his son, to the point that he was even slightly angry with him for not even giving her a chance.  
Belle and Adam had struck up quite the kinship, these last few weeks, discussing world travels, books, policy- anything and everything. She had even told him about her collection of newspapers from every milestone date in her life, something she'd never told anyone. Truthfully, she needed to remind herself more often than not that it was his son that she was to be marrying.   
On this particular Monday, she was reassessing alone with Adam to be sure that she was prepared to make appearances on her own on behalf of the crown. Belle wrapped her sweater closer around her as she walked out to the ornate gazebo in the back yard where they'd decided to meet. "May I come up, your majesty" she asked, hesitating at the bottom step and knocking on the railing as though a door.  
"Yes, you may," he called down, his normally very warm demeanor, toward Belle anyway, shoved aside in favor of a more wicked "kingly" guise, despite the fact that he was struggling not to berate himself every time he tried. He knew Belle was ready. This was merely a formality. Belle stepped up onto the patio and curtseyed, crumbling his whole pretense into a fit of laughter. "Why did you want to do this again?"   
She crossed her arms and pursed her lips in playful disappointment. "Because believe it or not, I'd like to not make a total fool of myself at the engagement at the children's home on Thursday."  
"You couldn't possibly." He took a few steps closer to her and placed his hands on her arms. "You, my dear, are the picture of grace, well read, kind to a fault," he looked deeply into her eyes and gave her a playful little shake, "and absolutely ready." Their stare lingered a bit longer than usual and, almost like a habit, as instinctive as breathing, he leaned in for a kiss and was met by Belle doing the exact same.   
Belle closed her eyes and deepened the kiss. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled in close. Adam ran one hand up into her hair and the other to the small of her back. Breathless, he pulled back, realizing exactly what had happened. "Belle, I am so sorry. I..."  
"No, I'm sorry," she said, backing down the steps. "I should have stopped." She took off back for the residence as fast as she could in the dangerously high heels she'd found herself in of late and upstairs into her room, locking the door behind her.   
Standing puzzled, Adam blinked. That happened. They'd kissed. It had absolutely been mutual. There was no denying. Surely, this couldn't end well and normally that would have been the only thought process he'd have had. Somehow, he wasn't worried.   
Maybe the draw he'd felt to her for Neal was really for him, after all.

@}}>\-----

The days since their kiss had gone without incident- mainly since Belle had been avoiding him like a proverbial plague. She was afraid that if they were to be too close and alone again that the same would happen. No matter how badly she wanted it to, how was it to look if she would rather be kissing her father-in-law-to-be instead of her husband-to-be, whom she'd only met once? No, it was better that she lock herself away until Neal returned or it was decided that he wasn't coming back.  
Nevertheless, Belle's first public outing alone had been a rousing success. She'd read to the children, played with some of the younger ones, helped some of the older with homework and even gotten in on a game of tag. She was on cloud nine. Her first thought leaving the home was to tell Adam how wonderfully it had all gone.  
First, she had a stop to make. There was a small newspaper stand on the corner and she had decided that she definitely wanted to remember that day. As she approached, she realized that her face was on the front cover. "That was fast," she thought with a smile. "I didn't expect this to be front page, especially since I just left." The closer she got, the more she realized that the same shots were all over the front pages of every paper. The first headline, "Putting The Dark In The Light," confirmed it. Their kiss had been seen. Worse, it had been caught by the paparazzi. "Abuse Of Power," claimed the next. "New Policy On Sharing?" asked the last. Belle slid the cash for the 3 papers onto the counter and ran off to where the car awaited. "Home, please! Now!" she yelped. The whole way back to the residence, she read each article twice over. Horrible things about him, demeaning things about her, speculation about Neal. This couldn't possibly have gone worse.   
A lump grew in her throat as the residence grew on the horizon. She kept trying to take deep, calming breaths, but nothing helped. Instead, she took detailed account of everything around her. Tree. Tree. She began to shake. Gate. Her heart raced. Tree. Tree. House. The car stopped. THE CAR STOPPED?! Deep breath in. Deep breath out. Belle opened the door for herself, leaving the driver to do nothing but stare after her as she took off for the front door to the residence.   
The lump in her throat became a knot in her stomach as she realized that, come hell or high water, she was about to come face to face with Adam again for the first time since Monday. She peeked her head into the sitting room and the dining room on the first floor, then headed for the second. She knocked on his bedroom door. No answer. The library. No answer. Office.  
"Come in, Belle," Adam called from behind the door.  
"How did you..." she asked, before realizing that the window did face the front of the residence and he'd likely seen her. Dropping the papers on the desk, she merely gaped at him, breathless.   
He surveyed them, well aware of their existence from that morning but not having thought for a moment that Belle might be upset by them. "Yes. We were, apparently, seen. Does that bother you?"  
Finally regaining the better part of her thought processes, she answered, "Obviously."  
"Does the invasion of privacy bother you," he asked, raising from his chair and crossing around to stand by her, "or are you upset that it was me?"  
"What? That's not it at all!" She took him in, his dark suit and sad eyes, his greyed hair, the expensive cologne. Was he really worried that that was the problem? She had disappeared for days, but... surely he knew it wasn't him. "It doesn't bother you?" she asked. He shook his head in response. "Good," she breathed, placing her hand on his chest and pulling him in for a hug. Apparently, she realized, she was more worried about how he would react than anything else. "So, are..." she hesitated, realizing that this was, in fact, the most they'd spoken in a week, "how are you?"  
"Better, now that I know that you don't hate me," he whispered. "The frost over the last couple of days, admittedly, gave me pause.  
"I could never. Quite the opposite, actually," she admitted, a bright blush tinting her cheeks. A spark of Her heart was racing again, but for a different reason. She kissed him again. This time, the kiss was not sweet. It was full of fire and passion. She looped her fingers into his front belt loops and pulled him closer and closer until he was pressed flush against her.   
Adam pulled back a moment. "Is this really what you want?" he asked.  
"Absolutely," she affirmed. She resumed kissing him, pushing him down into one of the plush desk chairs.   
"Should we," he asked when she allowed him to come up for air, "draw the curtains?"  
Belle flashed a wicked grin. "Let 'em watch." She climbed onto his lap, skirt encircling them both as she did, pulling her dark sweater off over her head as she did, revealing a cerulean lacy camisole which left exactly nothing to the imagination.  
Reveling in her curves, Adam couldn't help but reach out and touch. He ran his hands down her sides lightly, bringing them to rest on her thighs, gripping them tighter. Still, he needed more. More of her. He dragged his hands back up, this time grabbing the camisole and sliding it over her head with her cooperation.  
She brought her hands back to his hair, drawing his head back and sucking against his throat, grinding against him. She felt Adam's cock stir to life beneath her. "Easy there," she said, voice teasing. Her hands slid down his chest, nimbly unbuttoning as she went. She finally reached his pants and undid the belt buckle and slid her hand inside. Bigger than she'd anticipated. She began gliding her hand up and down his erection steadily.   
Adam reached his hand up under her skirt and slid her panties down, able fingers tracing light circles around her folds, growing wetter and wetter with every moment. He began rubbing his palm over her, pressure harder at the top, nearer her clit. he repeated the motion as until she released a moan.   
The chair became much to constrictive for the exploration Adam needed. He needed to e able to see her. All of her. He lifted her up and placed her on the desk.  
Not a moment too soon, Belle thought. She sprawled her arms behind her, sending papers flying about the room. She arched her back, giving the king a royal eyeful of her exposed breasts. Suddenly filled with a greed befitting his title, he felt compelled to have his hands on every bit of her. Adam laid a deep kiss on her mough, then kissed lightly down her neck to her chest. He mouthed at her right breast, rolling his tongue around the nipple before sucking at it, ever so lightly. Belle brought her hand up to work the other, closing her eyes and letting her head fall back ever so slightly.   
Adam busied his hands at removing her skirt. She pitched her hips upwards to help him. Once it was cast to the floor, he could finally take her in in all of her exposed beauty- and by God she was that, even by name. He stood back reveled in her perfection only a moment, because, at being left alone, her hand had wandered downwards to her clit, working it in practiced circles. Belle's entire body felt like it was throbbing, all with anticipation of him. Never one to appreciate not being needed, he reached into the bottom desk drawer and pulled a condom from the back of it. "Adam, hurry," she moaned. "I need you now." He rolled the rubber down over his fully erect cock and went back to her.  
Belle moved toward him, taking charge again. She gripped his shoulders and turned him so that it was now he on the desk. She climbed atop him and took him inside of her, pelvis bucking instinctively. She leaned forward and kissed Adam, desperate for any and all contact.   
Adam broke the kiss, pulling her away by the hair. "God, you're perfect," he said, marvelling at her, her body moving in synchronicity with his. She let out a breathy laugh and went back to kissing. She could, probably, have been content just to kiss him all day. Probably. But this was so much better. He rubbed his hands down her back, slapping her ass when he got there.   
A small squeak escaped her mouth. Grasping for words, Belle managed only, "Close," before all she could do was make the most ecstatic noises Adam had ever heard. He thrust harder and faster, trying to keep up wih the woman's movements. She finished, shaking and sweating, holding him tight. His climax came mere moments later.   
As the pair lay in blissful silence, Belle still mostly atop Adam, though the bulk of her weight rest on the hip she'd finally put against the desk, the realization of what had happened came down around her. "So..." she started, fingers trailing idly across his chest, "Does this mean that you and I are...?"  
"Unless you'd rather my son?" He joked. The pair laughed together. She buried her face in his shoulder, kissing it as she moved to get up. "Where are you going?"   
She grabbed up her clothes and moved to the en suite bathroom. "A lady does require a bit of mystery," she called behind her. He took that as his signal to redress as well. He deposited the condom in the bin under the desk, making a mental note to empty that can himself. After he'd finished dressing, he busied himself with reclaiming the papers they'd sent flying. One envelope he hadn't noticed before caught his eye- on residence stationary with no post mark addressed solely "Papa."

@}}>\-----

 

Papa,  
I'm sure you're angry with me. I know that what I did was wrong. But I can't marry this Belle. She seems lovely, but my heart lies with another. Truthfully, this woman seems more like someone you'd love. If that's true, then Papa, please, don't force her hand to me. Go to her. It was clear from the moment you walked into the room that there was chemistry. In the sparse time I spent with her before your entrance versus after, she relaxed completely. You've much more in common than you think.  
As for me, I don't know that ascension is what I want. Especially within the next year. I'm not ready. I know you didn't have a choice. That isn't fair, I admit. Equally, I'm sure that I don't really have a choice either. I am your sole heir and as such it is my duty, but you have run the country so capably, despite and in spite of public opinion. It would be a disservice to you, to me, and to the country for you to step down now.  
Presently, though, I need to spend time away. I'll return in time for Christmas, I promise you that. I'd never leave you alone for that long.   
But please, Papa, don't be alone.  
Consider what I've mentioned. Consider it strongly. You'll see. You were choosing for yourself, not for me, even if you didn't realize it.   
I love you and I'll see you in the winter.  
Apologetically-  
Neal.

The king sat in the library and reread the letter for the umpteenth time since he'd found it a week earlier. He had, somehow, followed his son's advice without even meaning to. Wise beyond his years, as usual. And, sure, he hadn't really thought about the marriage part, but you could bet that he was thinking about it now. The fact was that, despite the fact that they were, for all intents and purposes, in instant couple-status, as the kids would call it.   
Unannounced, as she'd become accustomed to, Belle walked into the library and continued her project of reorganizing it by Dewey Decimal, as she was appalled to find that it wasn't used in the first place. "What is that letter you've been reading over and over?" she asked, sitting on the rolling ladder in front of the shelves she'd left in stacks.  
"Nothing, dearie," he answered, folding it up again and placing it back on the table next to him. He should have known she would ask sooner or later. He toyed with leaving it at that, but something in him knew that that would be considered a lie. "Just, a letter from my son that he apparently left before he took off. It was on my desk and I must have missed it." Belle stopped what she was doing and looked at him, a little terrified. "Don't worry, in fact he apparently was instructing me to do what came about naturally."  
She laughed a little and turned back to her books. "That's good, then. Nothing to worry about?"   
"It would seem so. He even mentioned that his heart belongs to another," Adam said, rising from his chair in the corner and crossing to the chaise, nearer Belle. "So, I suppose when he returns, we'll have to set about meeting this girl."  
Belle raised an eyebrow. "Did he say girl?"  
"Why wouldn't it be a girl?" he asked, completely confused.  
"I'm just saying, the secrecy, the lack of pronouns, the aversion to being set up with a girl... could be that Neal isn't interested in women at all.  
The thought hadn't crossed Adam's mind. But it did make sense. If Neal was gay, why wouldn't he have mentioned it? "I'm not going to make assumptions-"  
"Aren't you making an assumption either way?" she interrupted.  
Adam merely shrugged. "I suppose," he said. "I would hope that, by now, he would have told me. Doesn't matter. What I mean to say is WE will have to meet this person, gender notwithstanding."  
Pausing with her hand still on the book she was placing, Belle turned to face him. "We?" She had presumed that, with a new match for the prince that she'd now be turned out. "Is there to be a we?"  
Perhaps not as "couple-status" as he'd thought.  
"Of course, Belle. I..." Adam's voice caught in his throat. "I love you."  
Belle moved from her spot on the ladder to the chaise next to him and placed her hand gently in his. "I love you, too." She leaned in closer and kissed him. "So, did the ever-wise Neal have anything else to say in his letter?" she asked, leaning against him, her palm on his thigh.   
"Not particularly," he added. "Just another plea that I reconsider abdication after his marriage."  
Belle's eyes widened in shock. "He wants to be king that badly?" she asked. She'd never thought of him as particularly ambitious.   
Adam made a sound of amusement. "No, actually. Wants to avoid it that badly. I want to step down. He feels that he's not ready."  
"Are you ill?" she asked, fear fluttering in her chest.  
"Do I seem ill," he asked. When she shook her head, he answered, "Correct, no." Before Belle could pipe in another possible reason, he continued. "I just feel that my time as king has run its course. Thanks, in large part, to you, my approval ratings are higher than they've been since Neal was born. Even before that I'd been looking for a way out. I've never been the leader this country deserves. As he has become a man, it's become more and more obvious that Neal is." Belle gawked at him in disbelief. "The Dark One is not a king. He's a fairytale villain." Adam hung his head in shame.  
Belle stood up and stopped in front of him, arms crossed and brow furrowed. "Do you honestly think of yourself as some sort of a beast?" she asked.  
He looked up at her sadly. "Not a beast, I guess, but definitely a monster." As she scoffed and took a few steps away, shaking her head, he stood up to match her. "Belle, you're probably too young to remember exactly what happened to get me called The Dark One. I wouldn't expect a 17-year-old living abroad to pay all that much attention, but I promise you, accident or no, it's not the type of thing that you're likely to be forgiven for, especially in the eyes of the people directly affected." He leaned against the shelf and sighed.  
She spun on her heel and glared at him. "Did you ever ask for forgiveness? One of the main things written about you in any sort of books on the subject is that you never showed any remorse for what happened."  
"How do you show remorse in ways other than the speech owning up to it and apologizing? I know nothing's as simple as all that, but what else could I have done?" He couldn't bear to look at her. She knew what had happened. Of course she did. You don't go to live with a political family without knowing at least the highs and lows. "Besides, Belle, there's so much more to it than any of the books know about it."  
Belle rolled her eyes. "Obviously! It's politics. The books only know what they can at the transparency of the people involved."  
Adam stiffened up, taking a step toward her. "How long have you been holding this back, Belle?"  
"Honestly, since just after I got here. I'd thought that you'd have brought it up by now," she started, beginning to pace nervously. She knew she was treading on thin ice here, but she had to know. "And you just told me you love me," she held up a hand, signalling him not to interrupt, as it seemed he was ready to, "and I'd never doubt that. I just thought that you'd have, by that point, felt comfortable enough with me to tell me about that part of yourself. I love you, even the dark parts, so let me know them, too." And just like that, she was gone. He heard her bedroom door slam shut before he could even decide where to start.   
"Frustrating woman," he breathed, crossing the hall to his office. "I can't believe I'm going to do this." He walked to the shelf immediately behind the desk and grabbed two file folders from the bottom. "Matter of national security? Peh," he said, reaching up to the top shelf and grabbing three more. "Who organized this place?" he asked the air as he walked to each book case and grabbed a folder or two until his arms were full. "She's going to hate me," he said, looking down at the pages in his arms. "She's going to leave and I can't blame her one bit." He took a deep breath and headed directly for her room. "Belle?" he called out gently, rapping at the door with his toe.  
She appeared, door only slightly ajar, and looked him up and down. "Yes?"  
Adam angled his head to gesture at the stacks. "May I come in?" Belle backed away, sitting down on her bed, leaving the door ajar.   
The bedroom had come a long way since she'd first moved in. The walls were painted an aquatic grey-blue with white trim and furniture and bright, sky blue accents. With the large bay windows, it got plenty of natural light and had a lovely view of the rose garden from the bench, chock full of coordinating throw pillows. Free-floating bookshelves adorned the wall nearest the door. A vase of fresh hellebores adorned each of her nightstands and 3 pots of draping clover sat atop her dresser. Her vanity was adorned with different gold jewelry stands and makeup brush organizers. All in all, it looked like a page from a magazine and still felt so very Belle. So much so that Adam found himself infinitely more comfortable in it than he was in just about any other room.  
He placed the files at the foot of her bed and then sat on the window. The pair was quiet for a moment before he finally spoke. "I'm sorry, Belle. I should have told you about this earlier. Especially sending you out into the public, who knows what questions you could have been completely blindsided by. Obviously, you're an extraordinary woman- intelligent, graceful, you can handle anything. Still, I should have told you and for that, I'm sorry." When Belle nodded, at least processing the apology, he continued. "In front of you are all of the files for Operation Scorpion, for your continued reading. However, if you'll allow me, I'd like to start with telling you what the files won't- my side." Belle propped herself against the headboard and grabbed a pillow tight, a sign she was open to hearing what he had to say. "As far as anyone knew, our political standings with most other countries were pretty good, even during the American's war. We kept to ourselves, mostly, and didn't meddle in affairs we didn't belong. That position was a delicate one, especially in those days. Many times, there were plots to sway our hand, but I'm a person who believes firmly that all action comes with a price, so, usually, I stay out of it. I avoid all combat at all costs. Some have said that that makes me a coward. I think it makes me a smart strategist." He adjusted his position, lacing his fingers together on his lap and closed his eyes. "It was a Friday. I had a meeting with an American General. It was my last one for the week. I was tired. He was pushy and talked fast. I told him I'd run it past my advisors and get back to him on monday, and he told me he wouldn't have it any other way. What he wanted was a 3 hour 'blackout.' No power to any of our outposts in any other country. It didn't sound right to me, and I was ready to say no, flat out. In retrospect, I should have, but I was burnt out. My wife, Neal's mother, had just disappeared a week or so earlier. It was a stressful time. Truthfully, I shouldn't have been making any decisions like that." Belle scooted herself down to the foot of her bed, setting the papers and pillow aside. Adam alternated between looking at her and the floor between his feet before simply closing his eyes. "I took it to one of my most trusted advisors. He said, point blank, 'do it.' No questions asked. 'Just do it.' Every other person in my staff. 'Just do what he wants.' 'What harm could come of it?' The harm, as it turns out, was that the general wanted the blackout because he had intel that two of our bases were to be attacked by their enemy and he wanted to force us into retaliation and an alliance with the Americans. 364 people died because I made an ill-informed decision." His voice shook. When he reopened his eyes, Belle was seated next to him. "It was my opinion, especially not knowing who I could trust, that if I were to organize any counterstrike, it would be a disservice to the peaceful people of our nation. Because I didn't, it was told to the American media that I knew, because all of my staff, who had been interviewed, knew. There was an investigation. I was, obviously, cleared, but my entire staff was fired. My first course of action was to take Neal, who was far too young to be put in such a position, and make him my chief Naval advisor. I needed someone whom I knew I could trust and, eventually, he'd be qualified, but he'd always done better through baptism by fire. So, one by one, we refilled my staff, my cabinet, and my advisory board. People swore that putting him in that position was going to be my biggest mistake. They still say so, because nothing like that has ever happened again. People swear that I orchestrated it. Still. Some 10 years later." By this point, he had folded into tears. Belle sat there and held him as he did. Still, he spoke. "They don't understand that it was the only intelligent move I made. That's why I think it's time for me to step down. Neal is much more suited to the role now than I was even then and I don't want to risk something more happening."   
Belle held him tight and pressed her lips into the top of his head. "That's terrible, Adam. I'm so sorry," she said, voice hardly above a whisper. "I won't read the files. I'm sorry." She closed her eyes and rocked him a little. "But, I will say, I think abdication would be a mistake. The man in front of me is a man that won't make that mistake again. And that's all it was. It was a mistake."  
"I'm so sorry I didn't tell you," he said, finally looking up at her. "I was scared you'd hate me."  
"Shhh," she cooed. "None of that now. I could never hate you. Never." She brought her hand up to his neck and rubbed it. She knew that, as king, he obviously had to be strong and sensitive, but the strength to have been through this, deal with it, and move on, while still feeling for the victims- Belle looked at him with new eyes. "I love you, Adam."  
He turned to her. "You're not just saying that because I'm a pathetic crying loon?" She shook her head and kissed him. "I love you, too, Belle."

@}}>\-----

November was drawing to a close. Adam and Belle were inseparable. It was pretty clear to the media that nothing they printed could shake them and, besides, what negative could you possibly have to say about a couple when one half of them was the literal embodiment of sunshine. Belle had very quickly become intensely active in charity work, especially literacy programs. She had become the darling of the entire country.  
The king had but one thing left to do if he still wished for a Christmas wedding to occur: propose to Belle! He'd racked his brain for some idea. He thought about having one of the public libraries named for her and proposing at the inevitable gala. But that seemed far too in the open. He thought, maybe, that he'd buy her a puppy and attach the ring to it, but that didn't seem quite like the fairytale proposal she deserved.   
Suddenly, it hit him. Fairytale. He set off to work, not allowing anyone to help him. This had to be all his.  
When Belle awoke the following morning, she found a tray of apple pancakes on her night stand with instructions to "keep an eye out during the day for more little magic." She ate them happily and went on to get ready for the day. When she entered her bathroom, she found a new crystal blue dress and stunning Swarovski encrusted stilettos. "I guess I'm to wear you, then," she said, picking the dress up and holding it against herself, giving a little twirl. "It is gorgeous," she admitted, picking up the shoes and letting out a low whistle. They must have cost a small fortune. She readied herself and hurried on about her day, curious about the meaning of all of the gifts. She knocked at the door of the office and it swung open. "Curious..." she thought, peering inside. "Adam," she called. No response. Noting the vase of small pink flowers on the desk, she decided to go in anyway. As she drew closer, she noted the yellow and white centers to the flowers and the near heart shaped petals. They were lovely, but not something she could place a name of. Hanging from the front of the vessel was a pair of beautiful sunglasses, large Old Hollywood frames, she thought they might be from the new Cynthia Rowley collection, but she wasn't sure what the insignia would look like. Either way, they were lovely. She tapped her foot, growing more and more suspicious with each gift. Still, she sat down at the desk and began working on her next proposal for the next round of charity functions.   
A few hours passed as she worked until a knock came at the door. "Miss," came a voice from the hallway. "I'm sorry to bother you, but your lunch is here." A tray full of every sort of sushi imaginable was placed in front of her with a tiny golden seashell. Another gift.  
Belle's mind wandered. What could the point of all of this be? As the day went on, she collected a few more gifts: an ornate hand mirror with a small chipped tea cup and a single red rose and a brass oil lamp. When she'd finished what she had to do, she went into the library. A beautiful tepee sat in the corner with a sign that pointed inside. On the interior, she found a small gilded cage with a cricket inside. She picked it up and set it on the table before crawling back inside with a book and making herself comfortable. Some time went by and before she knew it, the sun was going down. She set the book down on the shelf and headed off to find more "mischief." Not that she had any doubt that Adam was behind it all, but because he had yet to show himself, she was growing more and more interested in the end result. She wandered downstairs and onto the grounds and found a plate of beignets, small, donut like pastries. She picked one up and nibbled at it, heading out to the gazebo. as she looked around, a single light made it's way skyward, then two more. Then a half a dozen. In no time at all, the grey sky was flooded with floating lights. Belle had seen these before, but only in pictures. They were the floating lanterns, just like the ones in Thailand. She moved toward the fence to get a better look, as it seemed they were coming from all around the property. When she reached the shrubbery nearest the property line, she couldn't help but laugh. Not only was it the best view of them, but there was one sitting on the bench for her to light herself, which she did happily. She watched the lantern float away, thinking only of Adam. She knew he had to be watching this from somewhere. There was no way he'd go through all of this trouble not to be able to see it come to life.   
As if cued, a voice came from behind her. "I'm not a man to make speeches unless it's something expected of me. But, Belle French, you are unexpected. You are a person worthy of speeches and sonnets and songs." She moved closer to Adam, who hesitated on the steps. "You are the most incredible, thoughtful, caring person I've ever met. You get me in ways no other person ever has or ever will. I know that I am unworthy of your love, but for some strange reason, you do love me. When you walked through these doors, you were expecting to become a princess. Today, you travelled at a rapid pace through each princess of lore story until finally you reached your own story, right here and now. But there's a difference. They were princesses. Children. You are a woman, Belle- A queen. I'd like to know if you would make me the happiest man in the world," he said, finally moving down to the ground and kneeling before her. Belle gasped, still, after all that truly not expecting this, "and be mine. Will you marry me?"  
She helped him up, tears welling in her eyes, and kidded him, hands shaking.   
"Is that a yes," he asked, genuinely concerned that it wasn't. Even when she nodded her head, he asked again, just to be sure. "Yes?"  
She smiled again, still crying into his shoulder. "Yes," she answered finally, letting out a sob.  
Just as she did, a flurry of snow began to fall. "This one isn't me," he laughed, pulling her in close and kissing her forehead. She said yes. None of the big gestures mattered because she said yes. 

@}}>\-----

A Christmas wedding was no easy feat, but miracles can happen if you've got enough money and influence, something Adam was in no way lacking. Everything either one of them mentioned happened with no questions asked. The whole wedding was pristine white, with cranberry, evergreen, and gold touches. The whole thing was to be held in the rose garden, of course, under a large white tent. Heat was proving to be an issue, but they brought in enough heat lamps to make it near tropical.   
On the morning of, the residence was a flurry of activity. Belle was locked away in her room with her closest friend getting their hair and makeup done just right and dressing away from the prying eyes of the groom.  
The one thing that the groom was missing was his son. He'd said that he would be back by Christmas, so where was he? Neal was always a man of his word. He'd dressed alone, even down to tying his own tie. He'd always imagined that, if he were to remarry, all of these things were to be done with Neal by his side. The king sat alone in the dining room where he was being held away from the girls, with it being bad luck to see the bride before the wedding, and reread the letter once more.   
"When I said don't be alone, I didn't expect you to marry her on the schedule you'd set for me. You're not turning 30 next month," he heard, accrediting the familiarity of the voice to wishful thinking. He laughed a little and covered his face. "Papa, what's wrong," came the voice again.  
Adam whirled around, "Neal?"  
"I told you I'd be back by Christmas," he said.  
The king leapt from his chair and wrapped his son in a tight hug. "Don't do that again," he said firmly, hauling off and giving him a firm smack on the shoulder.   
Neal laughed. "I guess I deserved that," he said, rubbing the unexpectedly sore spot. "Now, papa, I don't want to steal your thunder- today is about you and Belle, but I'd like you to meet someone." He retreated to the entryway for a moment and came back with a woman. "This is Emma Nolan-Gold," he said bringing the girl forward, "my wife."  
"I should have known there was already a girl," the monarch said, pacing around the couple, observing them and really taking the girl in. She was beautiful, blonde, taller than he'd have expected, muscular, a bit tough looking, green eyes that seemed to hold more knowledge than she let on. They both appeared to be dressed for a wedding, so although Neal said he didn't expect him to take the Christmas wedding, he must still have known. "Nolan," he mused, "David's sister?"  
"Daughter, actually," she corrected. Adam stopped in his tracks and looked at her, trying to gauge whether or not she was lying. "My parents were young, and are older than most people think they are. And I'm younger than most think I am," she answered, not giving him the chance to question.  
Adam crossed his arms and clicked his tongue, clearly impressed that she didn't appear intimidated by him. "How much younger?"  
"22, sir," she answered again.   
"Well, at least you're legal," he answered winking at the prince and clapping him on the back. "Come, sit down and tell me about yourself," he said, taking her by the hand and leading her to the table.  
The time before the ceremony flew by as he learned all about his new daughter in law. Eventually, Cogsworth and Lumiere entered caling them to their positions. "You will stand with me, won't you," he asked his son.  
"It would be my pleasure, papa."  
The three walked out to the first tent in the garden and took their places. Belle's friend Ariel preceded her down the aisle in a simple dark red floor length dress with cap sleeves. Adam hardly noticed her for a flash of white in the doorway.   
Belle stood with her back against the door for a moment. Why was she nervous? She'd always thought that people who got nervous for their wedding were laughable. It was just a big party saying 'hey, I'm spending the rest of my life with this particular person' but most women weren't marrying a king. She needed to not think of him that way, he was still Adam and the way they were together wasn't going to change. There were just a whole lot of people watching her right now. And how was that different than the last few months of media scrutiny? She took a breath and faced the crowd. It's not different. Not at all. She locked eyes with Adam and all of her worries melted away. She was marrying him. Today.  
She headed down the aisle as the music crescendoed, gold flecks glimmering in the bottom most layers of her cathedral length train. A crimson ribbon was wrapped around her waist, the same color wrapped around her bouquet of snowdrops. Her heart hammered under the heavily wired bodice, corseted with gold. The strapless, sweetheart neckline was modern and beautiful without being too modest. She made her way to Adam and stopped.   
Tears welled in the king's eyes as she handed her bouquet to her Maid of Honor then turned back to her. They exchanged the traditional vows, as tradition mandated for a king, and departed the tent as man and wife.   
"We did it," she exclaimed, draping her arms around his neck when they reached the area in which they were to change into their reception wear. "We're married!" She began undoing his tie and kissed him again, for the first time as man and wife, away from their guests. "Untie me, husband?" she asked, gesturing at the lacing in the back  
"Absolutely, wife," he obliged, laughing at the title. It seemed absurd that it felt so new to be calling her wife when he felt like they'd been married a lifetime already. When he had her free of her dress, he pulled her back to him and kissed her neck, wrapping his arms around her midsection. "I love you, Belle."   
"I love you," she replied, turning her head and kissing him again. "Come on, let's get dressed before they send a search party."  
With a laugh, he headed to where their clothes were hung, a more casual pair of black pants and a crimson silk shirt for him, for Belle, a flowing crimson v-neck gown with a triangular swatch of white silk with ornate beading cascading from the small of the back to the bottom. They dressed in comfortable silence and headed to the reception tent.  
The party was everything one could dream of. Glistening white lights, great food, great company, and no discussion of state affairs. It was Adam's idea of heaven. Finally, the band paused for a moment, announcing that it was time for the couple's first dance as a married couple, after a few words from the groom. The king approached the microphone. "Belle decided that the one thing that I should be solely responsible for today was our first dance," he said, getting a few laughs from the assembled masses, but especially Belle. She wasn't sure what to expect, but admittedly, she was a little afraid. As the band played the opening to Freebird, she laughed, covering her face with her hands. "Okay, I guess that's no appropriate," he said, waving the band to a stop. "But, I think, this one is just right." He put the microphone in the stand and moved to the center of the dance floor, reaching a hand out for Belle, who joined him promptly.  
The band struck up a flowing waltz. "Suntanned. Windblown. Honeymooners at last alone. Feeling far above par- Oh, how lucky we are."   
The singer crooned as the couple twirled. Camera after camera flashed. Belle leaned up to him and kissed him. "The song's perfect," she said.   
"While I give to you and you give to me true love, true love. So on and on it will always be. True love, true love. For you and I have a guardian angel on high, with nothing to do but to give to you and to give to me love forever, true." The song ended. The crowd cheered. The couple bowed, then inviting all of the other couples to join them for an encore of the song.   
Neal and Emma were the first to stand, appearing at his father's side. "You and your true love, papa," he said with a laugh.  
"And yours, too, he answered, pulling Belle closer and resting his cheek next to hers, gesturing for his son to do the same. For all the worry he'd had about him, it looked like both of the men of the Gold family were doing just fine and in love, forever, true.


End file.
